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It had turned the corner into the territory of overt sexuality. It wasn’t brazenness, but there was a clear invitation to more than polite conversation.During a trip to the restroom while at the lounge I had nudged my top down to reveal a goodly portion of cleavage. With every laugh I consciously leaned forward to allow him a look down my shirt. I would lean, he would glance. Lean, glance. Lean, glance. In the car ride on the way home I had touched his thigh, lingeringly so and dangerously close to the crease made by his upper thigh and pelvis.As I did, I looked not for the first time at the bulge in the crotch of his slacks and briefly wondered what lie beneath the fabric. I could feel the steamy dampness that had built in the crotch of my panties. I had made a decision. It hadn't come all at once, but slowly and deliberately, after peeling my own logical layers of defense away piece by piece. It was the alcohol. I don’t blame it for controlling my actions as some will, but I do. She knew as he knew that revenge is sweet, in fact she had admitted she had only done some of the things to enrage him and make her week even more terrifying, just as her fantasy had been, but they say be careful what you wish for and perhaps she had overdone it! Saturday and Sunday, they spent as lovers, lounging in the sun out in the garden a fair bit, the weather being favourable and, in the evenings sitting watching the box like an old-married-couple! There was no mention of the previous week or the coming one, it was an unspoken and mutual decision. Sunday evening came, and they went up to bed together at ten, made love gently and tenderly then as Midnight struck, he symbolically slipped on the handcuffs, her hands in front of her as his had been, and she expectant of the abuse she so craved. He then gave her instructions about his breakfast and the time it was to be served, before he went soundly to sleep not having touched her in any way! Her frustration boiling in her body.
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